On Trace of The Tide, he says:
“Trace of The Tide is a commons shaped by the trace of twoness:
between the human and the more-than-human;
an opening that restores to humanity the capacity to tremble;
a space beyond the course of binaries;
an expanse where the lexicon of synonyms opens upon the dust of opposites;
a vast meadow of endless possibilities.
A living horizon where creation moves, possibility takes form, and returns to transform again between stories and mujaawarah—companionship, proximity, and shared life.
On Trace of The Tide, he says:
“Along Trace of The Tide stood a tree of extraordinary beauty, rare in both its form and its very existence. In its presence, the fragrant green leaves mingled with the fresh blue of the sea. It stood upon a sandy hill overlooking the dreams of the city’s young people, while radiant grains of yellow sea sand entered the picture, together with air infused with salty spray and a light, pure breeze—as though it were a piece of paradise in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
The tree was blown apart. The young people were scattered—perhaps they died—and the dreams dispersed into the air.
On Trace of The Tide, he says:
“Trace of The Tide is not merely a place, but an invisible boundary between what we say and what we are unable to say, where language is washed in its salt and returns less certain, yet more truthful.
There, home is not made of walls, but of a mother’s voice breaking against the waves, while neighbours are faces passing like ships, waving but never fully coming to rest in the heart.
As for time, it walks barefoot across the sand, leaving its trace before retreating, as though ashamed of a permanence that does not resemble the sea.
On Trace of The Tide, he says:
“He walked upon the water, quietly and lightly, as though Trace of The Tide knew him, as though the waves were laying out a path before him, just as the feet of prophets had walked before him—light upon the world, yet heavy with meaning.
The sea was waiting for him, grey as though it had not slept since the first war. His heart kept extending its thread towards that place, where the sea swallows Gaza every evening, only to return it as an echo.
On Trace of The Tide, he says:
“Trace of The Tide did not deceive us. It was unsettled all along, trying to say something…
